Scandalous
by illarione
Summary: We are whom everybody dreams of. We are whom everybody wishes to be. You think we're elites. But no, we're just a bunch of sinners. You think we're perfect. But no, we still hate our life.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Have you ever found people who you think have everything in their life? And you always ask God why you were born this way and they were born that way? Why they have beauty, money, and fame and you have nothing? You envy them so much you think you'll be crazy? Wishing you can exchange your life with theirs even though you know that's impossible?

Have you ever thought God is so cruel and fate is so unfair? You get this fantasy every night before you sleep that you were born rich like them you don't have to work? So you can have all those designer clothes, sports cars, and most insanely luxurious mansion? You'll go around the world with your private jet and spend summer on your own yacht?

Have you ever asked why they're so beautiful everyone loves them? They have men chase after them they don't have to try? They have people adore them no matter what kind of fool they are? They have boobs and asses that will look so good in bikini? And you always know when your wish will come true? Never in a zillion years?

Have you ever wondered why they're so famous even though they do nothing to be proud of? Paparazzi stalk them every single second to get their pictures? Their names always appear in those gossip websites? Everyone always wants to know what they do though it's nothing important? You know how frustrating it was, but you also find how infatuating it can be?

You want to be like them.

You're so obsessed with them.

You think their life is perfect.

Too bad we have the same idea.

We want to be like you.

We're so obsessed with you.

We think your life is perfect instead of ours.

Everyone in this world is pathetic, really.

Outside, we get Gucci and Prada. Inside, we're numb.

Outside, we're partying and drinking and smoking. Inside, we're struggling.

Outside, we're smiling and laughing and giggling. Inside, we're faking.

Outside, we're wild and free. Inside, we're dying.

We're destroyed. We can't do anything without something hunts us the day after. We're always followed by sins, guilt, problems, and mistakes. We're the worst sinners we must be going to hell. We deceive everyone. We deceive you. But mostly, we deceive ourselves. Honestly, our life is far from perfect. Like you, we don't want to be born this way either.

At first, we don't care at all.

In the end, we're too tired.


	2. Chapter 1

**Isabella Cassano**

Born — September 13.

Los Angeles, California, U.S.

Fashion heiress, socialite, aristocrat…

Is the one and only child of Italian-American prominent socialite, Renée Cassano and English peer, Charles Swan, also the only granddaughter of American actress Marie Walton and Italian business magnate Gianni Cassano (the only child of Vittorio Cassano, the founder of Italian fashion house Cassano).

**LATEST STORIES**

**I don't care anymore**

Devastated ex-boyfriend Austin Marks has told us that Bella isn't his business anymore. When we asked if he knew Bella was cheating on him, he answered, 'I don't know, okay? We're over and I don't care. She's not my business anymore.' Well, well, well, furious much, Austin? _Read more _

**We've been together since VALENTINE'S DAY**

It's revealed! Jennifer Ford has admitted that she and socialite girlfriend met for the first time on Valentine's Day. She said they have been together since then… Wait! But it was February! Weren't Bella still with Austin at that time? _Read more _

**Of course we're a couple**

Another romantic public outing for Isabella Cassano and Jennifer Ford! They were seen holding hands on the street this morning after partying hard in Hollywood club scene hours before. Got busy hands, huh? While one was holding her lover Jenny, another was for a…cigarette, of course. _Read more _

**Turns lesbian?**

That's right. Everybody knows Isabella Cassano always gets what she wants. It's just a month after the heartbreaking-not-too-heartbreaking breaking up with pop singer Austin Marks, but…she and Jennifer Ford were caught kissing (not for the first time) at Paris Hilton's party in Malibu. _Read more _

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

My head is still fucking spinning. I'm trying so hard not to break my feet as I run downstairs. Mom is sitting on the kitchen with the latest Vogue in her hands. She has her hair up which means she's stressed over something right now. But she's fucking smiling when she looks up to me anyway. It's so pure and honest kind of smile. Too bad I know better.

"Morning, Mom." I say as I go straight to the fridge.

"How did your night go?" I can hear a smirk in her voice. So I turn around just before I drink orange juice from the bottle.

"Good." I said warily which makes her smile wider. "Shit, Mom, what's with that creepy smile of yours? You fucking scare me you know." Then she laughs. There's this glint of amusement in her clear blue eyes when she raises an eyebrow at me. The magazine is long forgotten.

"Tell me something, Isabella."

I take a gulp of my orange juice nonchalantly before answering. "Like what?"

"Like why my beloved daughter doesn't tell me she is a gay I have to know it from those shitty websites?" Now it's my turn to laugh.

"Is that why you have this wrinkle on your face?" She scowls right away.

"I don't have any and you fucking know it."

"Relax, Mom. Everybody who lives on earth knows you don't have one, okay?" Age and anything that reminds her of it is the forbidden talk for her. I don't fucking know why. I mean, she get this beautiful face you're so sure her age is stuck at twenty. Thousands even say she looks like my sister, not my mom. "So what's bothering you this morning?" I rest my elbows at the breakfast bar as she sighs loudly. She knows she can't hide anything from me. She's clever, though. She's trying to avoid my questions by turning the conversation toward my sexual status. She knows she can't win, so she answered anyway.

"Phil has a new girlfriend." She says, not meeting my eyes. Phil Dwyer is a baseball player for Los Angeles Dodgers. He is three years younger than mom and she's been dating him for the last six months. They broke up last week.

"You don't love him." I say casually. That's right. She really doesn't. I know her too well. "Come on, Mom. Don't give me these bullshits." She sighs again, louder than the first time, totally defeated.

"Okay, okay. That fucker is dating Sue Clearwater. Satisfied?"

When she says 'that fucker', it means Charles William Swan, 9th Earl Swan, the second child and elder son of Geoffrey Andrew Swan, 8th Earl Swan and Helen Swan, Countess Swan. He is an English aristocrat, hereditary peer, and a major UK land-owner. I am his illegitimate daughter, also the one and only child. Mom gave birth to me on September 13, almost twenty years ago, in Los Angeles, at the age of just 18. Charles was the same age of mom and still the heir apparent of his father at that time. He left mom immediately when she was pregnant because Geoffrey threatened to disinherit him. Mom's parents sent her to move to LA and raised me there with some help from distant cousin. Seven years later, just a week after he received the inheritance—his parents delayed his inheritance until he was twenty five—he went public about his relationship with mom and their illegitimate child. Geoffrey and Helen were fucking angry, but he just didn't care. He followed mom to LA, begging for her forgiveness, trying to win her heart again. Mom always said it was too late, but he wouldn't give up. They still loved each other. Hell, everyone can tell they still love each other. But mom was so fucking afraid to get hurt so she refused when he asked her to marry him and tried to give me his last name. She acted indifferent of his efforts.

Charles also tried to build a good daddy-daughter relationship with me. He picked me up after school every day and took me to Disneyland every weekend. Mom let him. But they still lived separately. This lasted for eight years before he had to be back to London because of Geoffrey's death. There was no official statement about whether Geoffrey disinherited Charles' right as the peer or not, so he was still the heir apparent and would take the title as 9th Earl Swan. When he was busy with his business in London, mom took this opportunity to get her life again. She was back to her high-class-social-life and began dating another man, leaving him feel betrayed and hurt. He didn't go back to LA, but he visited me every month. It's still this way until now. Mom is so stubborn. Well, not every story in this world will end with happily ever after, right?

"Who the hell is Sue?" I frown a little.

"She is the former wife of Lord Harry Clearwater, has two children, and is ten years older than that fucker. Can you imagine it? For God's sake, she's so disgusting." Mom has this kind of funny expression on her face I have to laugh.

"Be careful, Mom. You did date younger men too." She glares at me. I raise my hands in surrender. "All right, stalker. Why do you think they're dating by the way? Don't tell me you read it on those gossip websites?" It's her most favorite hobby lately. Well, beside hanging out with her upper class friends and decorating our house every week, of course.

"They dined out together." I roll my eyes at her. She DID read those gossip websites.

"Oh, come on. That doesn't mean they're dating."

"He held her hand and that bitch was fucking smiling." I shake my head.

"Not enough."

"Fine, let's just forget it, okay? Now go get ready. I've already had reservation at Cecconi's." She waves her hand dismissively. I laugh a little more before running upstairs to get to my too-huge-room. I call it The Chocolate Room by the way. Why? Well, because the whole room is painted in seal brown and chocolate nuances? Yeah, whatever. I cried like a baby when mom changed the interior design of my bedroom without my permission three years ago, but cheered happily when I saw the result. She is brilliant sometimes. I slip into another door to my bathroom to take some bubble bath. It lasts for hours if you ask me. Then I enter the gate of my private heaven, the most beautiful place in this house or even in this world, where all those designer tags are spreading, my walk-in closet. Okay, it takes longer than bubble bath, honestly. What can I say? It's bigger than Mariah Carey's. I'm fucking serious, you know.

I put Emillio Pucci black skirt and top plus Chanel comfortable platform sneakers on. Don't forget about thick mascara, pale lipstick, and wavy long brown hair. I grab Ray-Ban aviator and Prada tote bag before stepping downstairs. Mom is waiting with her new Louis Vuitton dress from this year's fall collection and a pair of Chistian Louboutin heels. It's quite provocative, actually. Yeah, she can do whatever she wants to. As long as she's happy, why the hell not?

We get into my silver Pagani Huayra with me behind the steering wheel. Charles gave this baby to me on my eighteenth birthday. I love him more ever since. It only takes thirty minutes from Calabasas to West Hollywood. Paparazzo are stalking like crazy when we climb out, screaming some questions about me and Jenny to me or mom. They don't have our answers, indeed.

As soon as we're in the restaurant, being seated, and order some vegetarian menu for lunch, mom begins to tell the story about 'new target'. It means the guy whom she wants to date next. The lucky guy is Emmett McCarty. He is an American football quarterback for New York Giants. Yeah, mom has a thing for athletes lately. Back to 'new target', according to her, Emmett is 6 ft 4 in with bulky body yet cute dimples. He is thirty five, has won this and that, was born here and growing up there, blah blah blah… I've said that mom is an acute stalker, right? She even knows Emmett is on number one NFL's richest contract for this year with $22 million. Not that it's important. Everyone on earth knows money will never be a problem for us. But you know, mom always tries to get all info that spreads over internet, whether it's true or not. She just eats these shits up.

Charles calls as me and mom is waiting for the bill. Those blue eyes light up immediately. I roll my eyes in annoyance. I pick up the phone and we talk a little. It is ten p.m. in London and he just arrived at home. When I ask him if he did go out with Sue, he chokes out. He says something about work and insists he and Sue are just friends. When I tell him that I'm with mom, he asks if he interrupts us or not. I say no. Then I ask if he wants to talk to her, he answers yes after considering quietly for a couple of seconds. Mom pretends it's nothing, but it's obvious that she's happy she'll hit the roof. They talk for a few minutes. Mom glances at me once or twice. Yeah, they are definitely talking about me. I mean, what the hell else? It's not like they have anything to talk about but me, right? When Mom narrows her eyes, I know it's about me and Jenny. She hangs up abruptly and mutters 'jerk' under her breath.

After lunch at Cecconi's, mom wants to get some retail therapy. So we hit Rodeo Drive while paparazzo are tailing. Mom shops in Cartier (yeah, she's so in love with jewelries. Looking at her collections, I'm sure she can build her own store) and I shop in Chanel just across the street.

"Fuck." Mom curses loudly as we're in my Pagani. She's looking down to her iPhone in her hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"What the hell, Mom?"

"Next week is Marie and Gianni's anniversary." Right, fuck. It's not like they're not nice. It's just…you know, they're quite bossy. They want mom to settle down, they want me to go to college, they want us to move out of LA, they want us to live with them, they want us to do this and that and blah blah blah blah blah blah, but the most important of all is they want us to stop disgracing Cassano family.

"I'm not fucking going."

"Like hell. You know we can't avoid this." She's right again.

* * *

**Check my profile to know all about them.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Isabella Cassano**

Born — September 13.

Los Angeles, California, U.S.

Fashion heiress, socialite, aristocrat…

Is the one and only child of Italian-American prominent socialite, Renée Cassano and English peer, Charles Swan, also the only granddaughter of American actress Marie Walton and Italian business magnate Gianni Cassano (the only child of Vittorio Cassano, the founder of Italian fashion house Cassano).

**LATEST STORIES**

**ARE THEY OVER?**

New lesbian couple, Isabella Cassano and Jennifer Ford secretly has been together for months. It was just a few weeks ago they went public, but these past three days... Jenny is almost nowhere to be seen near Bella. Everyone knows God forbids the heiress goes anywhere without her. Is it possible that they are over? Well, it's Isabella Cassano we're talking about. Of course, nothing is impossible. _Read more_

**Let's fly!**

She gets private jet, people! The almost 20-year old socialite opted for pyjamas and slippers to board a flight out of LA. She and her beloved mom, Renée Cassano, reportedly would fly to Milan to visit Grandma Marie and Grandpa Gianni. Hmm…But why girlfriend Jennifer Ford didn't seem to join her trip? _Read more_

**Heiress Gang!**

It is no secret that they are being friends. Isabella Cassano, Paris Hilton, and Petra Ecclestone looked dining out together at BOA last night. But… it was just the three of them… Where was the new girlfriend? Weren't they so inseparable these past weeks? _Read more_

**BUSTED**

Isabella Cassano got in some trouble today for speeding through a residential neighborhood in a super fancy car. The young heiress was busted in Beverly Hills. _Read more_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

A small smile is automatically over my lips as people come to have a chat with me. Sadly, it's the fake one. Not that I don't like to be here, but…this is just a little bit boring. Scratch that, it's absolutely boring. Every five years Marie and Gianni always hold an extravagant party to celebrate their anniversary. And it's always this kind of party, you know, classy and majestic. Tuxedos, long dresses, gowns, stilettos, diamonds, this is some party for showing off how rich you are. Not my favorite one if you ask me.

I exchange glances with mom. I can tell she feels the same. This is too boring. I take a deep breath and look around of my surroundings though I know nothing will pick my interest. Unfortunately, I make a mistake to meet her blue eyes. Jane Volturi. The daughter of Aro Volturi, the now owner of Tod's. She is five to seven years older than me, pale and blond and skinny. Rumor says she has eating disorder issue and…social-climbing issue. Not my concerns, but the last line is a bit…ugh.

"Bella." She is already in front of me before I get a chance to escape.

"Jane." I reply in friendly-but-not-too-friendly tone. Whatever I do, she will smile anyway. She always is. She is taught to.

"How are you?" Yeah, just another lame conversation.

"Good." What? She doesn't expect me to ask her back, right? Like I want to know how she is…

"Not the best time to hold a party, is it?" I narrow my eyes as soon as those words come out of her mouth. "I mean, in the middle of battle your family is facing…" She shrugs. Bitch.

"How's your treatment? It goes well, I see. You look gaining some weight." I smile widely when all blood drains off her beautiful face. Payback is a bitch, bitch. "Excuse me, Jane, but I think I have to go back to my crowd." Double payback.

I walk away from her only to find mom is having conversation with Silvia Venturini Fendi and Bianca Brandolini d'Adda. No luck. She won't join me to leave this party. Hell, her eyes tell she won't even allow me, talking something about disrespecting family. Geez, she surely has some chronic amnesia. Suddenly, I hear Elton John starts playing piano. Then the happy couple, Marie and Gianni, leads everyone to dance. I stand aside. Then the next thing I know, I approach the table where the rest of Cassano sit on.

My great grandpa, Vittorio Cassano.

My great grandma, Elisabetta Cassano.

My uncle, mom's younger brother, Peter Cassano.

My aunt, Peter's wife, Charlotte Cassano.

My cousin, Peter and Charlotte's six-year old son, Zeffiro Cassano.

I take a seat on the empty one and pretend to enjoy the party. But I can't. There is this tension radiating between Vittorio and Peter. Guilt creeps into my skin. The need for leaving is getting even stronger. I know where their mind flies to. And even though Elisabetta and Charlotte look kind of calm, I can feel they also worry about it.

Cassano is Italian fashion house founded by Vittorio Cassano in 1940, which designs, manufactures, distributes, and retails haute couture, ready-to-wear, leather goods, shoes, watches, jewelry, accessories, eyewear, and cosmetics. Its headquarters is in Milan. Until now it has about 300 stores worldwide. And since two years ago, Peter Cassano has stepped in as the chairman and CEO of this family business, replacing Gianni. While grandma Marie still serves as the head designer. Cassano is a public company, meaning there are many who will attempt to take over this fashion house. For years, we always won the battle. But now, it's getting difficult. This is why the entire family, especially Peter, look a little bit stressed out.

Groupe Masen, a French multinational luxury goods conglomerate, was secretly raised its stake to 25.8 percent. The company was formed in 1965 by Anthony Masen and headquartered in Paris. It controls around 60 subsidiaries. In fashion sector, Gucci (100% share), Chanel (100% share), Valentino (100% share), Hermès (100% share), Salvatore Ferragamo (100% share), Brioni (100% share), Alexander McQueen (65% share). In watches and jewelry sector, Cartier (95% share), Harry Winston (98% share), Rolex (100% share), Bulgari (51% share). In wines and spirits sector, Charles Heidsieck (100% share), Louis Roederer (100% share), Domaine de la Romanée-Conti (100%). These aren't even half of it. Cassano is the newest target. Everyone knows it's just a matter of time.

Truly, I don't care much about this. The world knows I'll do perfectly fine without being the heiress. But…shit, this guilt again. I'm royally fucked. The betrayal that I did is so fucking unforgivable. The entire family will hate me if they know. Except mom, of course.

The next day, I succeed to avoid heart-to-heart-talk with Marie because I have an appointment with Steven Meisel to get some shots for the cover of Vogue Italia. Then I jet to Saint-Tropez. What? This can't be called runaway. Charlotte Casiraghi throws a party in the right time, you know. Is it my fault if I'm invited? Mom isn't coming. She has some business in New York or something. When she says business, actually it means the 'new target'. I bet less than a week she already gets into his pants.

I put a thin make up-but dark red lipstick on. A dress by Dolce &Gabbana follows suit. At least this one is going to be awesome. Isn't a costume party always fun? The party is being held at a luxurious mansion worth more than twenty millions euros owned by Monegasque Royal Family. The guests are Beatrice Borromeo, Dasha Zhukova, Alexia Niedzielski, Elizabeth von Guttman, and many others socialites. As if heaven intends to punish me, I catch a glimpse of him. Shit shit shit shit shit. He's coming? I mean, of course he's invited, but he IS coming? No fucking way. He is the busiest man in the planet. Coming to the party isn't like his type. He is drowning in work kind of guy. As if he can read my mind, his piercing green eyes land on me. One corner of his mouth curls up into a sly smirk. He remembers. Damn it to hell.

The guilt is calling.

Edward Cullen. Thirty-four, the only child of Irish noble Carlisle Cullen and French heiress the late Elizabeth Cullen, the grandson of Anthony Masen, has been the chairman and CEO of Groupe Masen since five years ago. According to Forbes, he is on the top ten of the world's billionaires list with worth about $35 billion, making him the youngest billionaire ever. Cassanos' enemy number one.

The guilt is shouting.

Confidently, he makes a beeline toward me. His bronze hair is perfectly comb over. His Brioni is shining like it's really made for him. His calm is maddening. His green eyes never leave mine. I'm wearing my poker face in the last seconds.

The guilt is screaming.

"Isabella." He tilts his head a little. "It's been a long time."

I force a smile. "I can't believe you're here."

"You're not happy to see me, I see." He nods dismissively.

"Why should I?" I ask in calm tone even though I almost burst inside.

"Well..."

"Monsieur Cullen." I breath in relief when I hear someone calling him. This French guy nods politely at me. "Mademoiselle Cassano." His eyes widen slightly as he hears his own words. Then he looks at me and Edward back and forth. Curiosity can clearly be seen in his blue eyes. Edward clears his throat and the French guy quickly gives him full attention. I have an urge to roll my eyes. Edward and his bossy attitude always can make everyone drop to their knees instantly. What can I say? He has money and power, not to mention his charisma.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" He asked in over-polite tone. I and Edward exchange the glances.

"No, really, it's..."

"Actually, yes." The fucker cuts in with a raised eyebrow. The French guy pathetically gulps.

"I'm so sorry, Monsieur... I'll just... I mean..." Edward's piercing gaze completely makes him even more nervous. My goodness, I pity him. "E-excuse me." Then he flies like a bat, swallowed by the crowd.

"You're such a jerk." I cross my arms over my chest. His eyes follow the movement of my hands. They linger there a moment too long.

"Yeah, I've been told." He still hasn't looked up. I huff in irritation and turn around to walk away. But he quickly hold my elbow. I look at him in horror. He can't be serious. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Don't. Touch. Me." I warn him.

He looks like he is holding back a laugh. "Really? Is that what you want?"

"Yes." I breath.

"I know your body too well, sweetheart. And it tells me the otherwise."

"Let go of me." I try to pull my hand off his hold. He does what I say.

"You know I will come back." The devilish smirk is spreading across his lips.

* * *

**Check my profile to know about the outfit in every chapter.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Isabella Cassano**

Born — September 13.

Los Angeles, California, U.S.

Fashion heiress, socialite, aristocrat…

Is the one and only child of Italian-American prominent socialite, Renée Cassano and English peer, Charles Swan, also the only granddaughter of American actress Marie Walton and Italian business magnate Gianni Cassano (the only child of Vittorio Cassano, the founder of Italian fashion house Cassano).

**LATEST STORIES**

**Back to work**

Partying nights are over, Isabella Cassano is back to her activity as a fashion model. After featured on Miu Miu Spring Summer advertising campaign last February with Adriana Lima, Arizona Muse, Doutzen Kroes, and Bette Franke, now it's Burberry choosing her to model their new fragrance campaign. _Read more_

**Party Princess**

Had a good night? She's fast become known for her penchant for partying thanks to her love of going out night after night. After been seen leaving The Box two nights ago, now it's time for partygoer Isabella Cassano hit LouLou's to attend Lady Leslie Black - the daughter of Billy Black, 12th Duke of Montagu, also her father's best friend - 23rd birthday party. The thing is... she left with birthday girl's elder brother, Jacob Black, Earl Black. He looked casually wrapping his arm around her waist as they dogded paparazzo. Well, well, well, moved on already, Isabel? When it comes to Bella, no need to surprise. _Read more_

**UNDERAGE CLUBBING**

It is surely NOT for the first time. Another underage clubbing for the fashion heiress, Isabella Cassano. The British Italian-American's it girl - who will only turn 20 in September - was seen leaving The Box with model Cara Delevingne and Georgia May Jagger in early hours. Smiling and giggling Bella was definitely in the good-tipsy mood. She didn't even look bothered by her break-up rumor. At all. But again, only heaven knows. _Read more_

**She owns the world**

Jetting where ever she wants to go is just as easy as breathing for socialite Isabella Cassano. London is where she landed next. Wearing Iron Maiden t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of Converse, she toughly dragged her large rolling luggage all by herself. Yeah, something that we never dream to happen before. Wait, still no word about her maybe-then girlfriend Jenny? _Read more_

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

Someone licks my face. I stir from my sleep but don't open my eyes. I know it's Maggie. She licks again, nuzzles my cheek in between. I get this smile on my face before carefully rubbing her neck. She leans into my touch. I peck her mouth and finally open my bleary eyes. She jumps to my stomach quickly, doesn't want me to leave the bed yet. I bring her to my embrace, humming in her ear. She likes that shit very much. Just like that, the phone rings. She startles and starts to get free of my arms. She does. I groan in response. Who the hell calls in this hour? Seriously? I mean, it's just, what, nine in the morning?

Maggie jumps out of the bed in the same time Jake emerges from the bathroom, bare chest with a towel wrapped around his waist. He bend over to scoop Maggie into his big hug. I huff in annoyance, jealous at their intimacy. I hate that he discovered her first. I want to own her too. Not another Pomeranian. I want Maggie as mine. She is so cute and beautiful and orange and sure as hell stealing everyone's heart in a glance. Jake will never give her to me no matter how much I beg or how many good sex we have. He falls hard for her. No one doesn't.

"Give her to me and pick up your annoying phone," I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the pounding in my head. He hugs her even closer.

"A moment, please." He holds her out of my reach as I approach them.

"It's Leah." I raises an eyebrow to get his reaction. Yeah, when I say Leah, it means Leah Clearwater, the daughter of Sue Clearwater. Well, remember Sue? The social climber who's trying to get my father's pants and bank account? The one that mom hates so much? Nah, it seems that Leah follows her mother's footstep by dating Jake. Okay, maybe not anymore. Yeah, from what I gather, they're in kind of on-off relationship.

I've met Jake a few times before Leslie's birthday party. Charles and Billy are sort of best friends. Billy is a Duke and Jake is the heir apparent which earns him a title Earl. Not that I care, but you know, it's where my world revolves. Always the same circle where ever I land. The elite ones, the rich ones, the boring ones...

"Yeah, so?" His face is buried on Maggie's neck, doesn't seem to care. He looks so different from Jake that I found three days ago, the gloomy guy in his sister's party. Back then he was stressed over his break-up with Leah - the bitch knows how to twist man's heart - but now, well, totally the opposite.

"I'll pick it up." I dare him to stop me. But he doesn't. So I answer it. "Hello?" I have to hold back a chuckle when I feel she freezes. "Hello? Who's this?" I try to sound nonchalant.

"Give the phone to Jake." She's angry, I can tell. But who cares? So I laugh anyway.

"Sorry, can't. He's busy." I look over my shoulder only to find him staring at my ass. Maggie is long forgotten. Men.

"Don't lie to me, bitch. Give. The. Phone. To. Jake." She hisses. I almost laugh again.

"Jake, do you want to talk to her?"

"Not when you're naked." His voice tickles my neck.

"I think it's a no." I say to the phone. Before she can replies, I end the call and turn it off. "You can't avoid her forever, you know."

"Hmmm..." He kisses behind my ear just softly, unintentionally presses his hard dick on my lower back. I turn around to face him.

"I'll leave for Cannes tomorrow."

"Will you come back?"

"Jake." I warn him.

"Okay." He sighs.

After fucking for hours like we're not gonna see tomorrow, I leave his millions' One Hyde Park penthouse in Knightsbridge and take a cab to Charles' mansion in Belgravia at three p.m. I only have few hours to get ready. There's this Swan Lake's ballet performance at Royal Albert Hall that Charles insists me to watch. The worst thing is... Countess Swan will be there. Helen, well, she is... words can't even describe her. One thing that I know for sure is she doesn't like me, let alone mom. She thinks we ruin her family reputation. The Swans' reputation. Yeah, The Swans and The Cassanos have been enemies for years now.

I walk down the stairs on Vera Wang's. Charles has been waiting for me in his tux, looks gorgeous than ever. No wonder every woman in this world is trying to get his attention. Mom must be blind. We get into the limo in comfortable silence. Charles seems relaxed but not in the happiest mood. I assume it's something that's related with work. I don't ask him. Work isn't the one I want to talk about right now.

"Do you really not have a date to accompany or you just use me as a shield to refuse any dates?" He chokes his own spit as soon as I ask that question. Yeah, Dad, I know you too well.

"Is it hard to believe that I just want to spend my time with my daughter?" He tries to save his pride. I just shrug. "How about you? I hear you and Jacob..."

"Dad." I cut off. "We're not serious, okay? Media is exaggerating."

He takes a deep breath. Seems like I test his patience.

"You and a girl named Jennifer..."

"We're over."

"You WERE in relationship with her?" He ask me in disbelief. I roll my eyes. Seriously?

"What's wrong for being bisexual?" He cringes at my confession. I ignore it. "I'm just nineteen, Dad. Girls at my age like to have fun."

"You have fun way too much." He snorts.

"What the hell—"

"Isabella." His tone is dangerous. "I'm not Renée. Don't speak to me like that."

"Goodness, you can't be serious."

"We've arrived, My Lord." Thank God the chauffeur cuts in. If not, we'll be in the big argument. Charles gets out of the car and waits for me. I link my hand in his arm then we walk inside together like nothing happens. Too bad Helen has to approach us five minutes before the show begins. I put a tight smile as she eyes me up and down. No way in hell I call her grandma.

"Charles." She kisses his cheeks in greeting.

"Mum."

"I haven't seen you in a while. Why did you not visit me?" The old woman really ignores me. Charles is looking at us wearily.

"Sorry, Mum. Been really busy these past weeks."

"You said it before." She scoffs. God, how can Charles not be crazy having her as his mother? "Where is Louis? He isn't coming?" Louis is my father's younger brother. Because Charles doesn't have a son, Louis is the heir apparent right now. He's married and has two sons. Something that extends Helen's lifespan.

"He'll be here in a few." Charles soothes her. "How about Elena?" Lady Elena Swan, the eldest child of all. She is no Helen. Elena is friendly and kind. She's married the commoner which makes her relationship with Helen a little bit...yeah, you guess.

"I don't know." She shrugs.

"Mum..."

"Let's go to our seats." No one has said no to the Countess, so we do. But before we sit, I see Sue and Leah from the corner of my eyes. Hell, it's gonna be a long night.

* * *

**Dress? Check my profile.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Isabella Cassano**

Born — September 13.

Los Angeles, California, U.S.

Fashion heiress, socialite, aristocrat…

Is the one and only child of Italian-American prominent socialite, Renée Cassano and English peer, Charles Swan, also the only granddaughter of American actress Marie Walton and Italian business magnate Gianni Cassano (the only child of Vittorio Cassano, the founder of Italian fashion house Cassano).

**LATEST STORIES**

**Flying solo**

RARE SCENE. She has almost never ever been seen alone since forever. Either her elite best friends or Mommy Renée always accompanied her anywhere. But now? Isabella Cassano unexpectedly strolled the street by herself. Well, maybe Mommy Renée is busy in another continent with her new-rumored boyfriend? _Read more_

**DRUNK TWEET?**

No place without party for Isabella Cassano. The world knows how her life was never far enough from partying. It was three in the morning in Cannes as she drunk-tweeted about her late night activity. 'Baby let me danceeeeeeeeeeeee till the sun comeeeeeeeeeees. I love my lifeeeeeeee! xx.' Then fifty minutes later. 'Where the f*** am I? God, I'm so crazyyyyy right nowwwww. Hahaha never thought I'd be saying that.' Well, thank to Isabella we get our lesson here._ Read more_

**Karl Lagerfeld's muse?**

It's no secret how famous she is in the fashion world. Gosh, she has even become an icon when she was only six. So no wonder why the creative of Chanel has an eye for her. Despite of the battle between Groupe Masen - which owns Chanel - and Cassano Family, Karl Lagerfeld praises Isabella for her 'wild beauty'. 'I love her. She's so adorable and very funny.' He said. _Read more_

**Big day in Cannes**

The fashion princess ensured all eyes on her when she arrived on the red carpet for Cannes Film Festival Opening Ceremony at Wednesday night. Bella, 19, who undoubtedly stood out among other A List stars, opted for Cassano's black and white gown which showed off her assets to perfection. She posed like a pro in front of crowds and scores of photographers. But, wait. She was alone? No way. Where was Mommy Renée? _Read more_

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

I'm back to Paris to attend a charity auction. Mom is still in New York and I don't see her to join me anytime soon. This event is being held in some historical chateau. Businessmen and art collectors are the main invitees. I stop in front of painting after painting, almost ignoring every man that's trying to have a conversation with me. Yeah, I won't give a damn of anyone. Not when these beautiful pieces spread before my eyes. Art is one thing that keeps me sane in this world. My only remedy. My true love.

There are about ten paintings which is going to be auctioned this night. And the money will be donated to cancer foundations. I reach the seventh painting and simply stand there for minutes. It picks my interest the most so far. I'm so getting the meaning. It's so... God, this is so me. I graze my bottom lip with my fingertip, so deep in thought. I don't realize there's someone right behind me until I hear he speak.

"It's not yours yet, you know. When will you move you feet so I can take a good look on her?" No need to turn around to know who owns that silky voice. I close my eyes briefly. God, why now? "I wonder why she gets your full attention instead of me." He says lowly. I gulp as his breath hits my exposed neck.

"Isn't it obvious?" I try to keep my tone flat.

"What do you think of her?" He jerks his chin toward the painting.

I turn to him slightly and answer right away. "Misery."

We are quiet for a moment, just stare at each other with thick tension embracing us. I can see a disbelief in his piercing green eyes. As if he expects me to say dumb words to describe the painting.

"You should see my collections." His face is mere an inch from mine.

"Later." I'm definitely under his spell.

"Now."

"N-now?" I can't focus on his word anymore. His eyes corners me, traps me in his cage.

"Yeah." He barely whispers. The air thickens.

"B-but..."

"Ssshhh, we're just going to see my collections, okay?"

We both know it's a lie.

The next thing I know, I'm in the passenger seat of his Ferrari while he is driving like crazy. Fuck the safety. There's this maddening urge between us I think I'm about to scream. It's been five months. Five fucking months since our New Year's Eve encounter. I tap my fingers silently on my lap. He notices it because then, he speeds up to the limit. We're stealing glances at each other, still no words come out. I gnaw my lip as we pass the gate of his glorious mansion. He stops the car in the driveway and out of the car in nanoseconds. Jogs to my door then opens it quickly. We get inside the mansion as if the devils are running after us.

Going upstairs, through some hallways, we're still not fast enough. I blame my dress and heels for this. It doesn't go unnoticed that he's getting impatient. Hell, I've tried so hard to match his steps, but with this dress, it's fucking difficult. So when we finally make it into his bedroom, he goes straight to kiss the hell out of me. His hands waste no time to yank my dress down.

"Careful." I warn him seriously. No fucking chance in hell I'll let him ruin it. Besides, it's Marchesa. One of my favorite.

"Like hell I'll give a fuck." He scoffs.

"Edw—" His lips shut me up immediately.

He lifts me by my ass after the dress hits the floor, makes me wrapping my legs around his waist instantly. I tug his hair till it's messier than ever while he's busy to suck my neck.

"Mon dieu, I miss you." He groans. "These five months have been hell to me." Same for me, actually. But he doesn't have to know. He walks us to the huge bed and lays me down on my back.

"Good to know." I murmur against his lips as my hands find their way to get him off his tux.

He lowers his mouth to my breast. "What did I do to deserve it, sweetheart?" There's a smirk in his voice.

"You're an ahhh..." I moan in pure pleasure when he takes my nipple. "God, Edward... you're really an asshole, you know what..." He chuckles darkly before biting the flesh there. "Fuck, I wouldn't... I wouldn't..."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't let you... ohhh... fuck me.. at that New Year's Eve party if... if I knew you're Edward... fucking... Cullen." I pant shamelessly as he cups and squeezes my tits. Hard.

"Hmmm, you know now."

"Get... the hell away... from me." I wriggle beneath him when I feel he draws his fingertip lightly between my thigh and the line of my thong.

"Sorry, can't, babe."

"I... you..."

"Mm-hm?"

"Why you... why do this to me? What's your fucking intention?" He blows some air all over my skin, making shiver in response. "You knew me for God's sake. You know my fucking name and how my family has been hating you since forever, but there you were, making me betray them... disappoint them..."

"Oh, right. Finally I see the day when our precious little girl cares to the family." He mutters sarcastically.

"Fuck you."

"On my way."

Just then, he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me forcefully. Goodness... his lips... the moment it touches mine... I'm gone. The way it moves... demanding... dominant... He's a motherfucking pro, so experienced in this department. It's impossible not kissing him back. As I'm gonna pull his head by the hair to bring him closer, he snatches both wrists and hold it over my head with one hand. The other leaves the back of neck trailing lower and lower. But not until he finishes rubbing my flat stomach, he moves it to the promise land. His skilled fingers rub me over my thong before taking it off.

"Spread your legs." He orders. My body complies it quickly. "Wider, Isabella. I wanna see your fucking pussy." He grits teeth. I open a little more. "Did you not get what I said or you just didn't want to follow my words?" He hisses as if I'm doing the biggest sin in the history. Both his hands yank my hips toward him, pushing the back of my knees until they become a fucking wide V. "Stay like this." He starts stroking my folds... so fucking slowly. I moan and arch my back. "Hmm... look how wet you are, sweetheart." His fingers move slower and slower. Yeah, the king of tease in action.

"Edward..."

"Yeah, darling?"

"Please..."

"What do you want?" He rasps.

"You."

The moment that word comes out of my mouth, he buries two fingers deep inside me in one swift movement. My head is thrown back against the pillow. Slow long thrust that always makes me want more. He knows what he's doing. I move my hips along with his fingers. But he doesn't pump me harder. He'll make me craving to the limit first. I moan even louder. And just like that, someone's banging the door. I try to ignore it. But when that someone begins to yell his name in annoyance, I stop. When I realize that someone is a woman, I lose it.

I slap his hand away my pussy.

"Who is she?" My eyes widen in surprise. He has the nerve to lick my wetness off his fingers. "Are you seeing anyone?" I ask in disbelief.

"What? Does it even matter? We fucked when you were still with that Austin guy." He smirks. I close my eyes. His words make me feel like a fucking whore. Not that I minded it too much before. Austin was fucking more than a half female population in the world when he was with me.

"Edward, I know you're there!" Her voice becomes more and more annoyed.

He gets out of the bed in seconds and gives me a Gucci dress shirt. "Put this on." He says calmly. I do without much asking. He strides toward the door. I watch him in horror as he opens it with no doubt. "Mon dieu, Esme, what with the knocks?"

Huh? Esme? As in Esme Platt? That famous 30-year old American actress? What's she doing here? She knows Edward?

"You left early." She states. I can picture her crossing her arms over her chest... that practically screams breast implants. Well, no offense. She's talented in so many ways. One hand she is Golden Globe Award-winning, the other one she is the Bitch of the Year.

"So what?"

"With who?" She barges in seconds later, not feel the need to ask his permission. I lift my chin high as I see the shock in her eyes. God, this is so embarrassing. She may not be telling the world, may she? "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No."

"This is crazy." She shakes her head. "You sleep with him?" Her question catches me off the guard. She isn't screaming. Her tone doesn't reach the top of Everest like I expect. She isn't angry. She's more like... taken back. Who is this woman? His girlfriend? Or not? I shift my gaze to Edward who raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to answer. But, of course I don't say anything. "You know he's your family's enemy, right?"

Those words.

Those words really punch me in the gut.

* * *

**Count down to midterm...**


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